


who we were when

by lagaudiere



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 13:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12818763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lagaudiere/pseuds/lagaudiere
Summary: The memory feels real, when Cass thinks of it now. It feels as real as anything else, anything from the life they actually led.But it's not, of course. It's all artificial, a memory implanted in their mind the way Mako implants strings of ones and zeros in the minds of machines. In reality the timeline didn't line up, because when Mako was at September Cassander Timaeus Berenice was already the next Apokine. It doesn't feel any less real, for that.And it's selfish, but Cass wishes almost more than anything that memory would fade away.***In which Cass remembers things that never happened, and an already hopeless situation somehow gets worse





	who we were when

**Author's Note:**

> me: wow i hope listening to the other arcs of the show will help me move on from counterweight   
> gremlin that lives in my brain, halfway through winter in hieron: you have to write fic about Cass' Big Feelings 
> 
> warnings for some mentions of character death, ignoring canonical character death and also a depiction of someone having a panic attack 
> 
> thanks for reading -- i'm on tumblr @ spacesocialist

In their memory, Cassander is seventeen years old, and they're sitting on the edge of a dorm bed, squinting down at a nanotechnology textbook.

“Do you understand this?” they remember saying.

Mako is sprawled on the bed across from them, with a matching textbook open in front of him. “Uh, yeah,” he says. He's wearing headphones, clearly only half-listening to what Cass is saying, and Cass winces involuntarily at the way Mako thoughtlessly kicks at the wall, leaving a slight sneaker mark. 

They're in Mako’s room, and it's a huge mess compared to Cass’ own. More cramped, too, because Mako has a roommate and Cass has a single. It's for their security, their parents said. 

It's a little lonely, though. They always feel more comfortable at Mako’s. 

“I don't understand how you learn these things,” Cass grumbles. “I can't wait until I start pre-med next year. No more computer nonsense, just good old-fashioned organic bodies.” 

“Not with all the tech they're putting in people now,” Mako says. “Ted keeps asking me if he should get laser eyes.” 

Cass groans. “Please tell me you said not to.”

Mako laughs and rolls over onto his back, feet still kicking at nothing. “I didn't not encourage it,” he says, cryptically, and yawns, stretching his arms up over his head. Cass can see just a little of his bare skin exposed where his t-shirt rides up, and they can't help but feel embarrassed, even though Mako obviously doesn't care at all. 

Cass coughs. “I'm never going to understand this,” they say ruefully. 

“It's fine,” Mako says. “I can change your grade for you. Don't worry about it. I've got my ways.” He springs to his feet, apparently regaining a sudden burst of energy. “I'm bored, Cass. Let's do something else.” 

He plants himself on the bed next to Cass, abruptly grabbing their hand, and -- 

And a part of Cass thinks -- they think he's going to make some kind of move, that he's caught onto Cass’ stupid, heart-thumping crush and he's going to actually do something -- 

But Mako just wrenches the textbook out of their hand and laughs. 

“Let's go get slushies,” he says. 

The memory  _ feels  _ real, when Cass thinks of it now. It feels as real as anything else, anything from the life they actually led. 

But it's not, of course. It's all artificial, a memory implanted in their mind the way Mako implants strings of ones and zeros in the minds of machines. In reality the timeline didn't line up, because when Mako was at September Cassander Timaeus Berenice was already the next Apokine. It doesn't feel any less real, for that. 

And it's selfish, but Cass wishes almost more than anything that memory would fade away. 

*** 

Cass isn't supposed to spend their time thinking about high school crushes. There's probably nobody in the sector who has more demands on their time, and if anyone knew where their mind wanders when ministers of agriculture are droning on about their problems, they'd never live it down. 

He hasn't spoken to Mako about it, not when they left September, not after what happened with Tower. There were moments when Cass still felt terribly guilty for not choosing him over Maxine, when they wondered how much of that to attribute to a sick sense of childish jealousy. 

It didn't matter. Not now. Mako, and Aria for that matter, might as well have been as unreachable as AuDy. There was no such thing anymore as the Chime. 

But there was the delmarchy. 

Cass has no real patience for public appearances. Being screamed at about the failures of the empire isn't exactly conducive to solving problems. 

They do interviews with journalists, though. Aria would kill them if they didn't. They sit in the office of the Apokine, where generations upon generations of the royal family have sat before,  _ ever since _ , the tutors would recite,  _ we crawled from the sea and learned how to soar _ . 

“What would you say is now the primary goal of the regime?” the reporter asks, cameras trained on them. 

Cass closes their eyes for a moment and sees Rigour on the backs of their eyelids. 

“To rebuild,” they say.

They think:  _ We need to become something different than what we were before. This is not an empire, this is not Atlantis. We need a new identity, one that moves us forward, not back.  _

They say: “We need a restoration to our former military glory. We’re going to show the Golden Branch that we won't be pushed around by any renegade wielding a Divine. We’re going to be what we were meant to be, a modern power that has to be reckoned with.” 

A few questions later, the journalist asks, “So, will you be the last member of the Pelagios line to rule?” 

“I hope so,” Cassander says. 

*** 

When they were younger, Euanthe had no interest in fighting. 

Socrates and Cassander used to spar all the time, and Euanthe would watch them from the sidelines skeptically, their nose buried in a laptop or a book. “You know you can use guns now,” Euanthe used to say. “Dueling isn't actually a practical skill, even for royalty.” 

But that was the problem with Euanthe, and why maybe they never would have been a great Apokine. They were too direct, their diplomacy in demands rather than requests. 

Socrates and Cassander got the lessons too, of course, in politics and diplomacy and leadership. But nobody cared all the much if they got the main expert of Hecate City wrong. The two of them, the younger children, were supposed to be soldiers. 

And Socrates was the better duelist. They were taller, older, stronger than Cassander. 

Sometimes Cassander got so frustrated when Socrates knocked their sword out of their hand that tears sprung to their eyes. 

Socrates seemed to understand, though. “Don't worry,  _ parvulus _ ,” they said once, holding out Cassander’s sword to return it. Cassander flinched at the use of the diminutive --  _ little one _ , was what they meant, _ youngest child _ . “Don't you know you're the lucky one? They're not going to make you a general. You can do what you want with your life.” 

Cassander snatched the sword back. “Then I'll become a general,” they snapped. “I'll earn it.” 

Cass remembers getting their military assignment, when they came of age, the placement in the medic corps that signified they would be kept off the front line. They remember crumpling up the letter and throwing it at the wall of their bedroom in the palace, cursing Socrates for running away from their responsibilities and making Cass the spare. 

They also remember unfolding the letter at lunch in the cafeteria, with Aria and Mako both looking at them nervously across the table. 

“Come on,” they remember Aria saying. “You're making me nervous now.” 

Cass sighed, their eyes resting on the words with resignation. “They put me in the medical corps,” they said. “My parents don't even think I can handle fighting,” and they crumpled the letter in their fist. 

“Oh, come on,” Mako said. “You're a pre-med student! They're playing to your strengths.” 

“You don't know them,” Cass said. 

Aria and Mako engaged a look, a roll of their eyes. “Maybe your parents just care about you?” Mako said. “Lucky you.” 

He took a long slurp of his energy drink. “Fine with me if you don't get murdered in some stupid war, anyway,” he mumbled. 

***

It wasn't a new thing, which was a big part of the problem. 

On September, Mako and Aria used to snip at each other every time they had to deal with Paisley for a mission. Embarrassingly, Cass had had to have it explained to them by AuDy that it was “some sort of love triangle, if that is the correct term”. 

Cass doesn't understand what either of them sees in Paisley. He's sleazy and shady and he plays the two of them off of each other like he's some kind of expert Apostolosian water tennis player, all complimenting Aria’s eyeshadow and ruffling Mako’s hair. It's infuriating. 

While Aria’s away at another dome for a performance, Cass and Mako go see him by themselves, handing over a data disc they’d stolen and decrypted. They met at a bar, and it was one of the worst rounds of drinks Cass had ever experienced, Mako leading across the table towards Paisley and Paisley leaning back towards him, casting occasional sidelong glances at Cass like they were in on some joke. 

They didn't understand why Mako didn't  _ get it _ , didn't understand that Paisley was just playing him. 

“That was fun,” Mako says casually when they're leaving the bar, doing a little spin off the curb in his heelys. Cass scowls. 

“I just don't like that guy.” 

“Why not? Paisley’s cool. I thought you thought he was cool.” 

“I did.” Cass tries to keep their voice casual. “I just… don't you think it's kind of manipulative, the way he treats Aria?” 

Mako shrugs. “I don't know. I think he just feels bad about what happened with her, I mean, obviously they're never getting back together.” 

Cass bites their tongue, but not hard enough. 

“And it doesn't bother you that he’s always touching your hand and messing up your hair like he's a -- I don't know -- like he's trying to get something from you?” 

“Like he’s --” Mako’s voice goes stony and cold. “Right, ‘cause there's no way a guy could just actually be into me.” 

That's not what Cass meant at all, and they fully intend to say that, to say that what they actually meant was that Mako could find somebody better, easily, that there are plenty of people who would take Mako out for a drink because they like him and not because he hacked a security camera. 

What they actually say is, “Not Paisley.” 

The look Mako gives him is genuinely hurt, and he flinches away from Cass a little, like he's been shocked. “Whatever,” Mako says, and spins on his heel away from them.

Cass spends the rest of the day feeling horrible about it. 

***

When Cass went back to Apostolos, half of the people there hated them. They saw Cass as a symbol of everything they were trying to throw away, a symbol of the old world. 

The other half greeted them as if they were already emperor. 

It's terrifying. 

When they walk into the throne room, they're trying for the bearing of Euanthe when they were younger, shoulders squared and head held high. Regal. They don't know if they're getting it right. 

Socrates is alone, which Cass hadn't been expecting, and they're holding a sword. 

“Have you come to reestablish the empire?” Socrates says, bitterly. “Is the youngest child who was cast out going to call themself Apokine?” 

Cass crosses the room and stands at the foot of the stairs, looking up at them, and goes no further. “I am Apokine,” they say. “By right.” 

Socrates laughs. “You know, that divine right of kings nonsense really doesn't fly anywhere else,” they say. “I was trying to modernize our people.” 

Cass crosses their arms. “I have no objection to the delmarchy. But I'm the only one capable of leading us right now. You have no idea what's coming.” 

“I know exactly what's coming!” Socrates’ eyes flash with anger. “Ibex --” 

“This is bigger than Ibex now!” 

Socrates opens his mouth and starts to say something, but cuts themself off. “Right,” they say. “I suppose you know best.” 

“Right,” Cass snaps. 

Socrates sighs, their shoulders drooping on the throne, their eyes heavy and pained. 

“There must have been a time,” Socrates said, “when we were a family.” 

Cass thinks about that, and then they think of Aria, and AuDy, and Mako. Of Orth, even. 

“No,” they say. “I don't think we were.” 

Abruptly, the sword falls from Socrates’ hands. It clatters down the stairs, loud and ugly in the echoing throne room, forcing Cass to take a step back. It lands at their feet, and Cass doesn't reach for it. 

“It's yours,” Socrates says. “Don't destroy it.” 

***

When Cass thinks about those false memories, turning them over in their mind and wondering why they're still stuck in their head, they think of the night after finals when they snuck up to the top of the medical sciences building. 

It was Aria’s idea, which was why it was only the four of them -- Aria, Maxine, Cass and Mako. 

“We’ve got to do something really rebellious before Cass leaves,” Aria said. “It might be the last time we’re all together.” 

She glared at Mako and added, “Don’t bring Tower and Ted this time. I'm serious, we’d get caught.” 

Aria had brought a twelve-pack of hard lemonade, and Maxine and Mako kept changing the appearance of the mesh, making fireworks explode over the skyline. 

Aria’s laughing, sitting on the edge of the roof with Maxine and dangling her feet over the edge. “Let's all come back here in twenty years,” she says. “When we’re famous. And we can all talk about how unfulfilling our lives are.”

Maxine doubles over in laughter, but Cass feels themself wince. They got word a few days ago about Socrates’ disappearance. Cass didn't believe for a second they'd gotten hurt, or been captured. Socrates was just running away, chasing whatever it was they really wanted. 

Mako nudges him in the ribs. “Hey,” he says. “You're gonna be a great doctor.” 

Cass smiles, slightly. Mako’s hair is silver tonight, and it's a good look for him, giving him almost a faint glow in the darkness. “Let's hope so,” they say. 

“Check this out,” Mako says, and his eyes go blank and distant for a moment. Above them, in the mesh, streaks of light shoots into the sky and the Apostolosian royal emblem erupts in bright sparks. 

They're quiet for a moment, while Aria and Maxine sing along with a pop song Cass doesn't know, Aria’s voice strong and soaring. Then Maxine spots someone on the ground. “Hey! Maritime!” she calls. “Come up here!” 

Cass hears a distant laugh. “No way!” Maritime yells back. “Come down here!” 

After a brief argument, Maxine and Aria give in and head for the stairway back down. “You coming?” Aria asks, looking over at the other two.”

Cass glances at Mako, and Mako glances back and shrugs. “Nah,” he says. “We’re gonna say and see if we can find any UFOs.” 

Aria laughs and throws Mako a bag of chips, which he just barely catches. She runs down the stairs after Maxine, the clatter of her shoes gradually fading into the distance. 

Mako rips open the bag of chips and leans back on his elbows, looking up at the distant gleam of the stars. “You know that one’s the sun of Earth’s solar system?” he says, pointing. “The ancestral homeland.” He smirks at Cass. “Mine, anyway.”

“Mine, too,” Cass says, mildly. Mako offers them the bag of chips, and Cass takes a handful. 

They're still thinking about what Aria said. This is the last time. 

“Mako,” they hear themself say, without quite knowing why, “are you going to the winter formal dance?” 

“Oh! Yeah.” There's a pause that seems to drag on for a long time while Mako reaches for another handful of chips. “Tower asked me. I didn't tell you that?” 

“No, you didn't.” 

Mako smiles in a way that’s a little distant, a little absent. “I'm sorry you're gonna miss it, dude,” he says. 

Cass doesn't respond. It's cold out, up here. They pull their jacket a little closer around their shoulders. 

“Cass?” Mako says. He looks worried. “Look, I know I'm not the best at talking about this, but -- you know you're gonna be okay, right? It's not like we’re never going to see each other again, or anything.” 

It makes Cass smile, even though it doesn't mean anything, even though Mako has no power at all to say whether that's true. “I know. Come visit sometime, will you? My parents would hate you.” 

Mako laughs, and unexpectedly, he reaches for Cass’ hand. He’s warm -- no, he’s warm- _ blooded,  _ and Cass can feel themself tense up instantly, but they don't pull away.

“You're freezing, dude. We should probably get off this roof.” 

“In a little bit,” Cass says, and Mako doesn't move away. 

They stay their until the sun comes up -- or they don't, Cass reminds themself, because it isn't real. They don't quite know how it works, but it must have been their own subconscious that arranged their thoughts, their desires, like this. And even then, the best they could do was holding hands in the cold. 

They'd take that over being Apokine, they suppose, but that isn't saying much. 

*** 

Mako turns up at the Apokine’s residence with a USB drive, a frisbee and a formal contract of understanding and non-interference with the Rapid Evening. 

A version of Mako, anyway. He isn't the original. 

“It’s Angel,” he informs Cass breezily. “Angel Trig, secret agent. Nice to meet you.”  

“Angel?” Cass looks at the Mako clone across from them in the Apokine’s office, sitting backwards in his chair. 

It's disconcerting how many of them there are, not least because Cass gave Mako eye-scanner access to the residence without thinking about the rest of them. This one keeps picking up pens and paperweights and examining them like he's never seen anything like them before. Is Mako not teaching the clones how to write?

“What, like from Buffy?” 

“Uh,  _ no _ ,” Mako -- Angel -- says, rolling his eyes. “Like angel sharks. You know? We all have shark names. We got Lemon, Hammerhead, Sharpnose, Cookiecutter --” 

“Cookiecutter is  _ not  _ one,” Cass interrupts. 

“It is!” Angel insists. He rummages through the messenger bag he's carrying, knocking the frisbee onto the floor in the process. “You wanna see a picture of a cookiecutter shark?” 

Cass snatches the contact out of the immediate range of Angel. “I think we need to just redirect this conversation,” they say carefully. “What exactly does the Rapid Evening want?” 

“First dibs on any Divine tech uncovered on any reclaimed Apostolosian planet,” Angel says easily. 

Cass slides the contract back across the table towards him. “No deal. I could have told Mako that over the comms.” 

They haven't seen Mako in months. It's a strange, hollow feeling. So much of their mind is taken up by someone who doesn't even call. Cass tries not to dwell on that, the fact that their impact on Mako’s life was almost certainly a fraction of Mako’s impact on theirs. 

Angel shrugs. “Doesn't make a difference to me. He's paying for my hotel either way.” 

“He wouldn't have sent you here just to wave around a contract he knew I’d reject,” Cass says, suspiciously. “What does he actually want?” 

Angel makes a vague, sweeping hand gesture that is probably supposed to indicate he doesn't know. “Between you and me, man, I think he just wanted me to check on you. I mean -- Mako worries.”

“Does he?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Angel says. “All the time.” 

The longer Cass talks to him, the less comfortable it becomes. He looks familiar in a way that he logically shouldn't, considering Cass didn't actually know Mako at that age. He’s impossibly young, too young to know anything about war. His hair is silver. 

“Good to know, I suppose,” Cass says gruffly, and attempts to avoid eye contact by shuffling through the papers on their desk. 

“So,” Angel says, “do you ever get out of this office?” 

“No. And I have another appointment,” Cass says, and pushes the intercom button to call their security team.

***

The night after their argument about Paisley, after twenty-four hours of carefully avoiding Mako, Cass gets a text message:  _ cass are we in a fight right now  _

They can't help but smile at their phone.  _ i’m not in a fight _ , they text back. 

The moment after they press send, there's a knock on the door. Unsurprisingly, Mako’s standing there when they open it, smiling a wan smile. “Are we good?” he asks. 

“I think that's up to you,” Cass says. “I know I was the one being a dick, I'm sorry.” 

“Nah.” Mako saunters into the room like he was invited in and throws himself into Cass’ only chair. “You were right. Paisley’s the worst, I know that.” 

Cass’ mouth twitches into a smile. “Well. We’ve all looked past that for, uh. Other reasons.” 

“Even you?” Mako waggles his eyebrows at them salaciously. “Your Highness.” 

The truth is, Cass can't really say the same is true of them. When they were younger, they'd anticipated being betrothed to a member of a prominent family, and romance wasn't an easy thing when you could never be sure if someone cared about you or your family name. There was someone, for a short time, in the army, but that kind of relationship wasn't built to last. 

And now they have the kind of life that affords the chance to want something else, and here they are talking about it with Mako, who is persistently and carelessly infuriating and who Cass is, if they're being honest, halfway in love with. 

“Even me,” Cass says. “And no, I’m not going to tell you about it.” 

Mako laughs. “Look… Cass, is there something you wanna talk about?” 

“What? No.”

Mako’s looking at them over the top of his plastic-framed glasses like they're a complete idiot. “Okay, buddy. Well, let me know if you need anything.” 

He waves at Cass as he walks out, and Cass feels like they've missed something entirely. There's a directionless feeling of anger in their throat, and they wish they had a sword. 

Instead, Cass kicks the plastic trash bin in the corner of their room into the wall, and gets back to work. 

***

“Do you think there’s anything you can do for him?” Aria asks anxiously, after they leave September. 

She's standing beside them, looking horribly pale and drained, while Cass shines a penlight into Paisley’s unblinking eyes. Paisley looks at the two of them coldly, like he doesn't recognize them and wouldn't care if he did. 

“I don't know,” Cass says, fighting to keep the note of hysteria out of their voice. “I don't know what’s wrong with him, maybe there’s something Koda could do, but it's not -- this isn’t normal.” 

Paisley’s facial expression doesn't change at all. He turns his eyes away from Cass and inspects his fingernails. 

Aria’s still saying something behind them, but Cass can't focus on it at all.

There are a dozen thought jangling around in Cass’ head, and they're chasing each other around, each one worse than the last.  _ We were in school… I found the Apokine, and there are six of Mako and Maryland’s dead, everyone's dead, and AuDy’s gone… AuDy… _

No. Shake it off. Cass is a doctor, and Cass is a soldier. 

This lasts for about five seconds. Then the door bangs open loudly behind them, and Cass and Aria both reach instinctively for their guns when they wheel around to see Lazer Ted, wild-eyed with panic. 

“There’s something going on with Mako!” Ted half-shouts. “You're the doctor one, right, you gotta do something for him.” 

“Fuck,” Cass says, weakly, and starts to follow, but Aria does too. “No -- keep an eye on Paisley, I don't want him left alone.” 

Aria looks at them with pleading eyes, and Cass desperately resents always having to be the one with the plan. “Look -- Ted, you go get Jacqui, and the three of you wait here. I'll take care of Mako.” 

She nods, and Cass runs towards the kitchen where they'd left Mako. 

He's sitting at one of the kitchen chairs with his head in his hands, Orth hovering next to him and obviously paralyzed with indecision, hyperventilating. 

_ Fuck _ , Cass thinks again, emphatically, and forces their brain to snap into trauma response mode and stay there. 

“Right. Orth, get out, you're not helping.”

Orth looks enormously relieved to have this order, and slinks out with guilty eyes as Cass kneels down next to Mako. 

“Hey, Mako, are you alright? Can you tell me what's going on?” 

Mako lowers his hands enough to grip his knees instead of his hair and shakes his head. 

“Okay. Take your time. Has anything like this ever happened to you before?” 

Another head shake. Mako’s rapid breathing is ragged, and sounds painful. 

“Okay.” Cass desperately hopes their voice is at least a little bit soothing. “Let's just focus on slowing down that breathing a little bit, alright? You're going to be fine, Mako, this is a normal response. You might feel lightheaded or like your heart is beating too fast, but you're safe. You're going to be fine.” 

Mako’s hands are curled into fists, fingernails digging into his skin hard enough that they could break the skin, and Cass reaches for them. “Careful, don't hurt yourself,” he says, trying to gently pull his hands apart. 

Mako lets them, and then doesn't let go of their hands, and Cass doesn't object. “Deep breaths,” he prompts, and Mako’s breathing slows down, regulates itself after a few long moments. 

Mako looks at their hands and makes a slight pained noise, then disentangles them and swipes at his eyes roughly. “Ah, shit,” he says, vehemently. 

Cass smiles slightly and gets to their feet. “Like I said, it's completely normal,” they say. “Please, don't feel bad.” 

There are tears in Mako’s eyes, though he's obviously trying to hold them back. “I messed up,” he says, voice wavering. “I shouldn't have left, I -- Cass, I --” 

“Take your time,” Cass says quickly. “You're okay.” 

Mako shakes his head. “I remember things that aren't true,” he says, and he can't stop himself from crying now. “They made me think I was -- made me think I was real.” 

That hits Cass like a punch to the stomach. “You  _ are  _ real,” they say, and hears their voice slip from professional to pleading. 

“I'm a  _ clone _ ,” Mako says. “And I'm not even the only person in my  _ head _ .” He shakes his head, heavy and resigned. “What am I going to do with all of them, Cass?” 

Cass doesn't have to ask who he means. And they don't know the right answer to that, don't know any answer to that at all. 

“I don't know,” Cass says. “But you're going to do the right thing, Mako, you will.”

***

It's a long four years. 

Cass does their best to stay focused, to prepare. There's pressure from every angle to put that aside and prioritize the immediate problems of Apostolos, and it's hard temptation to resist, sometimes. 

The worst of it isn't the dozens of ministers clamoring to make their agenda heard, or Aria’s constant missives of unwarranted idealism. The worst of it is their family, Socrates and Euanthe and their one surviving parent, none of whom apparently has any appreciation for the fact that Cassander is keeping them in comfort and security and preventing numerous assassination attempts. 

In a moment of frustration, one night, he calls Mako. 

“You're on,” chirps Mako’s voice immediately. 

“Hi,” Cass says, trying to be casual. “Do you have time to talk?” 

“Absolutely,” Mako says. “Let me just -- hey!” 

There's a very brief scuffle on the other end of the line, and then a very slightly different Mako’s voice comes back on the line. “Sorry about that,” this Mako says, resentfully. “One of the kids got my phone, this is Mako. Who's this?” 

“Uh.” Cass hesitates, finding themself in the fairly absurd position of trying to think of a question only the real Mako would know the answer to. “What's the password to Aria’s laptop?” 

There's a snort of laughter on the other end. “God. Slay bells. S - L - A - Y.” 

“You pass.” Cass smiles to themself, watching through the window of their bedroom in the residence as snow falls onto the lawn. “Are you -- I'm sorry, this isn't as serious as it sounds, I'm not calling on official business. Are you alone? I was just hoping we could talk.” 

“Yeah, sure.” Cass can hear a few voices in the distance, then the thumping bass of what is probably Lazer Ted’s music. “Um, what do you wanna talk about?” 

“I don't know… anything? How are things in the Rapid Evening?” 

“Pretty good, man. You get a lot more done when there are so many of you.” Cass listens for a while as Mako talks excitedly about the clones’ coding progress, Ted’s business proposal for an app that tells you the perfect time to take your toast out of the toaster, and a mission he and Larry had gone on to test the concept of DDOSing a Divine. 

It all seems incredibly distant from this, the place where Cass grew up and where they work now, where at night the halls are empty of any voice except their own.

“Hey, Cass?” Mako says eventually. 

“Mm?” 

“We never talked about what happened on September.”  

Cass freezes immediately, their fingers digging into the arm of their chair. “We don't have to talk about that,” they say hastily.

There's a crackling sigh. “I want to, though,” Mako says quietly. “I -- I know the last couple of years I've been weird.” 

“I don't know if ‘weird’ is the right term,” Cass says, and immediately regrets the irritated tone that has crept into their voice. 

“Distant, then,” Mako says, scornfully. 

Cass softens, a little. “Distant’s fair.” 

It was more than fair -- Mako had gone a year almost without any communication at all, sending all official business through first Lazer Ted and then the clones. Even when he’d started texting again, it was impersonal and superficial in that way Mako could do so well, revealing nothing at all. 

“Well,” Mako says now, “you’re the emperor.”

Cass rolls their eyes. “I won't point out that isn't the right title. I still wanted to hear from you.” 

There's another long silence, except that Cass can hear several other versions of Mako’s voice speaking indistinctly in the distance. “I was trying to..” Mako sighs. “I had to adjust, you know. All new understanding of who I am and where I came from.” His voice is light, dismissive. “It's fine now. I mean, nature versus nurture, you know.”

“Sure,” Cass says. They don't. 

After a moment, Mako goes on, and his voice is a bit of a nervous rush now. “There was a moment where I knew I could go back for one person, and I thought about Tower, and I -- I think I picked Ted because I knew he wasn't going to ask me for anything. And I think that's the reason I didn't talk to you, too.” 

“You don't have to apologize. For any of that.” 

“I'm not, exactly. I'm just glad you called. Cass?” 

There's a hitch in his voice like he's about to say something really important. “Yeah?” 

“I talked to Aria, a little bit, about what we remember from, uh, the fake September memories. And we remembered the same stuff.” 

Cass hears their own sharp intake of breath and hopes that Mako doesn't. “Oh,” they say. 

“Do you remember that time we snuck up to the roof?” Mako says. “When you were about to leave for the army.” 

“I remember.” Cass bites their lip. “Or, I don't know if remember if even the right term --” 

“I don't know,” Mako says dismissively. “I guess I just… I’m glad I remember that stuff. It feels important? Even if it's not real, I mean… we’re real.” 

There’s a warmth and brightness in Cass’ chest as soon as he says it that feels almost physical, and that might be what they've missed most about Mako, that feeling. Undeniably, no one else has ever made them feel like that. 

“We are,” Cass says. “Distant, but real,” and Mako laughs. 

*** 

Inviting the Chime to a state dinner is almost certainly going to be an absolute disaster, but for now, Cass is just grateful. Grateful for the chance to see all of them again and at least take a shot at pulling the galaxy together again, and grateful Mako and Ted have come a few days in advance. 

Well, maybe not so much for Ted.

“So, when do I get to see where you live?” Mako asks the night before the state dinner, when Cass is escorting them back from a poorly received tour of the sculpture garden. “Is it all covered in gold leaf?” 

“I can give you a short tour, if you want.” Cass looks sideways at Lazer Ted. “Uh, you're the only one on the approved list of diplomats though, so…” 

Ted shrugs. “‘S alright. I'm gonna go get some more of that fried shrimp from the kitchen, man.” 

He winks broadly at Mako, for unclear reasons, and leaves them alone. 

Cass has to shake off the personal guard, which is no small task; the first few times they assure them that Mako won't assassinate them, they don't seem convinced. But they get away eventually, and they lead Mako through the winding hallways of the residence, while are mostly covered in portraits of elderly family members and marble carvings of crashing waves. 

Mako looks wildly out of place there, in his sequined jacket and bright orange shorts, and it makes Cass smile. 

They arrive at the library eventually, the center of the building, and Mako whistles through his teeth when he sees it. “Yikes,” he says. 

Cass looks around at the winding staircase leading up through towering levels of books, at the huge glass fish tanks lining the walls. ‘Yikes’ is fair. 

“We’ve got sharks here,” they offer. “The Earth species, uh, they can only live in captivity here, but your -- Angel told me about the names you gave the, the --”

“The clones,” Mako interrupts. 

“Right. Anyway, I learned a little bit about the different species. We do have mako sharks, it turns out. I asked.” 

“Flattering,” Mako laughs. With total disregard for his surroundings, he perches on the edge of one of the tables, swinging his feet carelessly. “You know, part of me never really believed you were royalty until I saw this.”

Cass runs a hand through their hair, hiding a smile. “And you believe it now?” 

“Sure. I can see little Cass sitting right here, getting angry about having to do algebra. And in that throne room having somebody hand-feed you grapes.” 

“I wish,” Cass says, and Mako kicks them lightly in the shin. 

“When you were younger--” he starts, and hesitates. “I mean, were the September memories accurate? ‘Cause I feel like all of mine were accurate.” 

“You mean was I really like that? I think so, for the most part. I was never any fun.” 

“I know  _ that _ .” 

Mako’s eyes are soft. His hair is, for the first time in Cass’ memory, its natural black, and just long enough to reach his ears. Between that and the carefully cultivated goatee, he’s trying for sophistication in a way that almost works for him. It tugs at Cass’ heart, Mako trying to be the adult in the room, Mako building this careful new persona. 

Cass hasn't stopped loving him, really. They don't know at what precise point they started, but it's hopeless now. 

“Did you really wear chokers?” Mako asks, and Cass snorts with laughter. 

“No. Well, once. My parents didn't approve.” 

Mako laughs, too, but it fades quickly into a kind of solemn stillness. “I think about it a lot,” he says. “Sort of, because of Tower, I think.” 

Cass doesn't say anything, and Mako looks at the floor. 

“I… It would've been complicated with him, you know, and I know you aren't a fan of Ted, but he, he never asks me for anything.” He sighs in frustration. “Never asks any questions, Ted.” 

Cass wants to reach out to him, but they hold back. “Mako… I appreciate it, that you're telling me this, but you never owed me any kind of an explanation.” 

“I know, but --” Mako breaks off and throws both of his hands up, a gesture of complete resignation. “You know that night in my memory of September, when we -- when I almost kissed you?” 

When he -- 

If Cass was holding anything, they would've dropped it immediately. The feeling is a lot like a spaceship leaving the atmosphere, the shift in pressure and in purpose that always feels so monumental. 

“What?” Cass says, stupidly, not at all like the ruler of an entire planet. 

“I just mean that's why I didn’t call,” Mako says. “Because I felt like I wasn't even, I don't know, a person, and you were going away to be in charge of a planet just like you were going away then, um. It would've been, complicated.” 

Cass’ stomach is in knots. “I didn't know you even -- thought about that.” 

Mako blinks at them. “Oh. I thought it was obvious.” He turns his face away and flushes, kicking the table leg harder. “That's what I remember, anyway.” 

“I remember,” Cass says, quietly. “It wasn't real, though, Mako.” 

“This is,” Mako says, and kisses them. 

It startles Cass enough that they sort of squeak, but Mako seems unperturbed by it. He’s got his hands on Cass’ shoulders, pulling them forward determinedly, and Cass feels themself fall into kissing him, into the warmth of Mako and the slight scrape of his facial hair that makes Cass shudder. And it's such a  _ relief _ , really, so much that when Mako stops kissing them and looks at them with searching eyes, running a hand along their jawline, Cass wants to cry. 

“Really?” Cass says, at a loss to say anything else.

Mako nods; he threads his hand through Cass’ and kisses them again, just briefly. “I don't know a lot about hacking people’s minds, or whatever,” he says. “Even though it seems like people hack my mind all the time. But I think they must've just taken our real feelings and sort of… mashed them up.” 

Cass runs their hands down Mako’s sides, a little wonderingly, and Mako leans into it, into them. 

“ _ Mako _ ,” Cass mumbles. They can't think of anything else to say. They close their eyes, trying to gather a semblance of thought. “I've always… you know.” 

Mako smiles broadly and pulls Cass closer, close enough for Cass to have to brace their hands on the table to avoid falling over. “Yeah,” he says happily. “More kissing now, alright?” 

Cass nods, and they're not Apokine just then, they're not a ruler or a soldier or anything else, they're just here, physical and real. 

_ I love you _ , Cass thinks, heart thudding in his ears. They're not sure they've ever thought that about anyone else before, and they've certainly never said it, but it's echoing in their head now.  _ Love you, love you, love you.  _

***

Life does feel a little more worth living, after that. 

Cass can't quite picture what their life would look like, after Rigour was defeated, if someone Rigour ever was defeated. But they’d like to find out. 

Between Rapid Evening business and Apokine responsibilities, it's not unusual for Mako and Cass to go days or weeks without talking, so Cass gets into the habit of writing long messages. They're practically letters, really. 

In fits of uncharacteristic fancy, they write to Mako about the faint, distant  _ someday  _ that's just barely imaginable, when they'll be safe and together.  _ Maybe,  _ they write,  _ we’ll just get an apartment on Counterweight and pretend to be normal people. Doesn't sound bad, does it?  _

Mako writes back:  _ lol cass im trying to marry into royalty here  _

And then:  _ what are u gonna do get a job parking cars  _

A few hours later:  _ it sounds pretty good tho just u me and all the mini mes  _

And eventually:  _ i know you're probably still in meetings but im tired and honestly it does sound good lol. i miss u. wish it didn't have to be like this  _

Cass saves all of his messages. 

Socrates is the first one to ask Cass about it, sauntering up to them in their seat on the private plane they're taking to a joint public experience. Socrates has been good about lending their political and military support, but they haven't given up on being an older sibling. 

They lean into Cass’ space as Cass is jotting down notes for the speech they're about to give, earning themself glares from Cass’ bodyguards. 

“So,” they say, “you and that Stratus guy?” 

Cass coughs. “Uh,” they say. “How do you -- you know about that?” 

Socrates smirks. “I've still got intelligence officers,  _ parvulus _ ,” they say. “None of your conversations are private anymore, you must know that. Even phone calls to your boyfriend.” 

Cass can't help but bristle at the term, although Socrates doesn't say it in a mocking way. Their tone is light and almost gentle, and it's not as if Cass has a term they’d  _ prefer _ , but still. 

“You're spying on me?” they snap, redirecting their attention to the more concrete offense. 

“Euanthe started it,” Socrates says. 

Scowling, Cass flips the notebook they were writing in to face down and resolves to fire everyone in their personal guard. 

“What did you want to get out of this conversation?” they say. “Other than maybe a treason conviction.” 

Socrates just keeps giving them a knowing look, like they're sitting in the library watching Cass attempt to translate the Iliad. “Cassander,” they say, “how long are you planning on doing this job?” 

They have an instant answer for that. “Until Rigour is defeated, and not a second longer.” 

Socrates is quiet for a moment and Cass looks at them with their eyebrows raised. “What, were you wondering if Mako would be an acceptable  _ consort _ ?” they say, voice dripping with contempt. 

Socrates laughs. “Please, I’ve seen that hair. He wouldn't.” 

Cass scowls at that too, feeling increasingly juvenile about it. 

“When you came back here,” Socrates says, “you told me you were going to be Apokine in the old way. The leading people into battle, throwing yourself onto the sword of the enemy so it can't slash the throat of the commoner way.” 

“I have been,” Cass says. They think that's justified. The military has been built up to what you might call its former glory. They've retaken planets -- Cass knows they aren't the only one in the family who felt a vicious joy at seeing the roller coasters of JoyPark torn down. Socrates may not have wanted to preside over an empire, but they can hardly say Cass has failed to. 

But Socrates just looks at them, face blank. “Are you willing to fall on that sword?” they say. “Still?” 

With that, Cass nods to the security team still watching from a distance, and they appear to flank Socrates on both sides in an instant. “I think it's time for you to go,” they say. “Don't question my commitment to our people again.” 

Socrates shrugs. They get to their feet before the guards have to pull him up and straighten their clothes with a sad smile. “Alright,” they say. “I'll be next to you on that platform today. But you think about it. Because I'll fall on the sword, Cassander. I have no problem saying that.”

Cass still fires everyone in their guard when they get back to the residence. They replace them with soldiers. 

***

When the time comes, Cassander Timaeus Berenice makes every sacrifice they know how to make. 

They are the Apokine and what Apokines do is build fortresses of other people’s bodies, and Cassander does it. Cassander has made themself into a person who understands that soldiers are disposable, who lets their family die to win a war. 

It's Orth who stops them from making the  final sacrifice, in the moment when it seems like the right and inevitable choice. It's the Kingdom Come which knocks their ship off course and takes that plunge for them, and it's Orth’s voice through the comms, ringing with Ambition, that says, “Let me have this moment, kid.” 

And for that reason, and because of AuDy-and-Liberty-and-Discovery, and for a thousand others, spread out around the Golden Branch and across every star, they win. 

The next voice they hear on the comms is Aria’s. “Hi,” she says softly, quietly, like she's not sure she's speaking to anyone at all. “This is Aria, is anyone… can anyone hear me?” 

“This is Cassander,” Cass says, automatically. “We lost Orth, we… I lost a lot of people.” 

Aria makes a startled, pained sound. “Are you alright?” she says, hesitantly. 

Cass doesn't really know in what sense she means it, but it takes them a moment to survey even their physical health, to make sure they aren't injured. Everything feels curiously numb. “I think so,” they say. “Is Jacqui with you?” 

“Yeah. Have you heard from --”

Another voice clicks onto the comms then. “Aria?” it says, sounding frantic. “Cass?” 

And Cass still can't tell their voices apart -- they're too similar in pitch, and the tone, now, is unfamiliar, shot through with stress to the point of breaking. “Mako?” Cass says, hoping against hope. 

“It's me, Cass, it's me,” he says, and then, voice cracking, “I'm the only one left. I--it’s just me.” 

“We’re here,” Aria says.

“You're safe?” Mako says, like he doesn't believe it. “Both of you?” 

“We’re safe,” Cass says, not quite believing it. They're crying, they realize, and they know that Mako and Aria are too, and that's good, probably, that means that things are over. 

“You should come home,” Aria says then. “Please.” 

They don't have to ask to know she means Counterweight. And Cass has an army to tend to, a planet to rebuild, but they don't even consider not going, not for a second.

*** 

Cass meant to resign as Apokine right after the matter of Rigour was resolved. They really, really did. But that was when they thought Socrates or Euanthe would be there to take their place. There's no way, now, that they can leave Apostolos in the state they've created. 

They've chosen a successor, or at least what they hope will be a successor -- their foreign minister Eleftheria, who is bright and idealistic and a little younger than Cassander is. Cass is teaching them how to rule, trying to crush a lifetime of lessons imparted through both tutoring and implicit, unspoken rules into a few months.

There will be an election, when the people are ready for one, but Cass suspects that with their endorsement Eleftheria won't have any trouble. 

For now, though, Cass is still Apokine. But they don't make public appearances, they don't give many interviews any more, and they try as much as possible not to let Mako out of their sight. 

No one comments on Mako’s presence in the residence within Cass’ earshot, although they expect there's gossip among their cousins. Royalty never changes, really. 

“No offense,” Mako tells them one night, “but I hate it here.” 

Lying next to him in bed, Cass smoothes the hair back from his forehead, trying to be comforting. “I know,” they say. “I'm sorry. It's not forever.” 

“‘S okay.” Mako’s voice is tired. “I don't wanna go anywhere. Not until you can come with me.” He catches Cass’ hand and kisses the palm of it, and Cass smiles, a little. “Soon as you're done being the most important person in the galaxy, or whatever.” 

Cass hates it here, too, the hallways emptier than ever now that they know they won't ever seen Euanthe or Socrates walking down them again. 

But it must be worse for Mako, they think, to feel that way in his own head. 

“Cass.” Mako twists around and shifts closer together, until they're practically nose-to-nose, and grips a handful of Cass’ tunic a little too tightly. Cass runs a hand down his hair, trying to be soothing. “Cass,” he repeats, almost a sigh. “I don't know what I’d do without you. Sorry I'm so -- you know.” 

“Don't,” Cass says. “I’d be hopeless without you, too.” 

“I wish you'd known the kids,” Mako says quietly. “You know. The Makos. They were -- I was gonna make sure they turned out okay.” He’s silent for a moment, and Cass waits, knowing it usually takes Mako a few stops and starts to say what he means. “I probably shouldn't have let them fight,” he sees eventually. “They deserved better.” 

“With your genes, you probably couldn't have stopped them,” Cass says, still stroking his hair, and Mako laughs a little into their shoulder.

“Everyone who died fighting Rigour, they made that choice for the Sector. We would've done it too.” Cass thinks of Socrates, of falling on the sword.

“I don't know.” Mako’s voice is muffled, his tone unsteady. “Don't you think I'm… I don't know, a little selfish?”

Cass frowns. “Because we lived?” 

Mako sighs, shifts uncomfortably in Cass’ arms. “Because I wouldn't have done it,” he says. “Not unless I knew that you were -- that you didn't make it. And you were going to do it, If Orth hadn't stopped you. That's selfish, right?”

“You would've been alright without me,” Cass mumbles, and Mako pulls away just enough to look them in the eyes. 

“Cass. C’mon, I just said, you're my… my person.” 

It still makes Cass’ heart beat faster, when Mako says something like that. It still seems less real, being with him, being together, than anything else. They're not going to heal over all the holes left by the war, but they’ll heal around them. 

“We’ll be okay,” Cass says, and they believe it, in spite of everything. “Eventually, we’ll be okay.” 

Mako doesn't answer, but he kisses them, his eyes fluttering closed. “Cass,” he mutters again, and that’s more than enough. 

*** 

Apart from Liberty and Discovery, Cass still doesn't have any fond feelings for  Divines. So they suppose it says something that they've gotten used to Divine tech being disassembled at their kitchen table. 

“What the hell is that?” Jacqui says warily, backing away as soon as she crosses the threshold of the room.

“Uh, energy weapon,” Mako says, gathering up the pieces of the thing strewn across the surface. “We think.” 

Jacqui holds out a metal arm to stop Aria from entering the room. “Let's wait until that’s out of the way,” she says suspiciously. 

Aria grins and waves to Cass from behind her girlfriend’s broad shoulder. 

“I tell him not to leave these things lying around,” Cass mutters as Mako heads down the hallway with armfuls of unidentified metals. “Not that anybody listens to me anymore.” 

As soon as Jacqui moves out of her way, Aria bounds over to Cass and throws her arms around them, squeezing tight. “You poor thing,” she says. “Quite a step down from planetary ruler to first mate on a two-person ship.” 

Not that Aria would know. She's aged disproportionately for the time they've known each other, as they all have, but being head of the Consolidated Technocracy sits well on her. Her hair is shorter and her suit is sharper; it looks like she's subtly color-coordinated it with Jacqui’s. 

“They're the captain on the deed,” Mako says as he walks back in, and Aria pulls him into the hug as well. 

They bought the ship about a year ago, days after Cass resigned as Apokine. The inside is just about big enough for two people to live, and the exterior has a cloaking device that works about half the time. Cass had felt almost giddy with happiness just from the experience of leaving the planet, and Mako smashed a bottle of champagne against the hull, laughing and dodging out of the way of shattered glass. 

The mission is Mako’s passion project, collecting all the Rigour tech they can get their hands on and keeping it as far as possible from any corporations and governments. Cass can appreciate that, but more than anything it feels good to have such a clearly defined mission, and to have Mako by their side, working towards a common goal again. 

Jacqui cracks open the bottle of whiskey she’d brought and Aria lets them go, looking wistful. “I can't believe it's taken us so long to get together again,” she says. “You never visit!” 

“She's always busy anyway,” Jacqui says wryly. “All those CEOs she hates see her more than I do.” But she smiles, and links her arm through Aria’s. 

“God,” Mako says. “If Cass and I didn't spend all our time stealing guns, I’d say we’d all grown up.” 

Cass laughs, and it's almost surreal, the four of them back together like this. They set out four servings of squid ink pasta and Jacqui pours four shots, but it's obvious there are, in spirit, empty places at the table.

“Seriously,” Aria says, “how are you doing? You taking care of yourselves?” 

Cass and Mako glance at each other. It does get easier over time, the survivor’s guilt and the flashbacks and tangled threads of anger and mourning. They wake each other up from nightmares; they try to talk about all the people they've lost casually, to be grateful for all their memories. 

“We do alright,” Cass says, and Mako reaches for their hand and squeezes. 

“Getting better,” he adds. 

“Good,” Aria says, and she raises her glass of whiskey. “To AuDy,” she says, “and to Orth. To the Chime.” 

They clink their glasses together, and it's solemn, it's somber,. But maybe someday, years down the line, they'll look back and see only the good, and it won't be. 


End file.
